Therapy
by whiffofasharpie
Summary: The NCIS crew is forced to go to therapy. How many therapists will they scare away? Tiva, McAbby.
1. Monday

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS.

new therapist every day! xD

* * *

"Therapy?"

The word dropped into the bullpen like a stone. The tapping of keys stopped, and a consecutive groan came from the three agents.

"It's in one hour, too."

"Wait until Gibbs hears about this."

McGee said, looking faintly hopeful that Gibbs might perhaps get them out of it.

"Hear about what ElfLord?"

Gibbs strode into the bullpen with a coffee in hand, so strong Tony could smell it from his desk.

"Therapy."

Gibbs looked up.

"What?"

"Therapy."

Another voice chimed in, this time from Ziva. She had taken to flicking her knife in and out, contemplated the most painful way to kill Leon Vance. A noise resembling a growl came from Gibbs as he stood up, motioning for them to follow him. He stalked up the steps and into Vance's office, not bothering to evn knock.

"I'm guessing you here abou-"

"Why the hell are we going to therapy?"

Even Ziva stepped back slightly at the question that dared Vance to answer the fact that they just _might_ have some problems.

"I said so. Now you might as well go now that you're up her. Ms. Scuito and Dr. Mallard will be joining you. You'll have it every day for the rest of the week."

The whole team was glaring now, a look that was slowly making Vance afraid.

"Okay, so the SecNav told me that they need every team to go to make sure everything is okay."

If it was possible that Gibbs' stare could get harder, it did. He strode out with the team behind him, Ziva slamming the door behind them with something that sounded like a crack. There wasn't a word that passed between any of them. They all had equally angry faces, and all seemed to be thinking of ways to kill Vance. Ziva was fondling her knife, making everyone that passed them shrink to the wall and almost run by. Tony had his hands balled into fists, and even McGee was looking scary. But Gibbs was staring so hard that if he was staring any harder he would be searing a hole through everything in front of him. Abby was bouncing in front of a door, a huge smile on her face, while Ducky was off rambling about how this reminded him of something when they walked up.

"Gibbs! Isn't this going to be fun!"

Abby exclaimed when they approached, continuing to bounce, her boots clunking lightly on the carpet and her pigtails bobbing up and down as well. She was silenced with a glare when the team strode into the room where they were to have therapy.

Inside there was a 30-something year old man, sitting behind a mahogany desk, files spread out all over. He wore thick black glasses and had curly charcoal hair. He was smiling a fake, strained smile and when they walked in, his expression turned to one of _fear. _The team took their seats in the chairs and couch in front of him. Ziva, Tony and McGee took the couch, Ziva a little closer to Tony than McGee, while Abby took the chair beside McGee, with Ducky on her other side. Gibbs took the armchair beside Tony, glaring something more like swords at the therapist.

"Uh... Well, let's start with names, shall we? I'm Dr. Mark."

Ducky decided to pick up when the silence stretched a tad bit too long. "I'm Dr. Mallard, but please, call me Ducky,"

Abby followed suit, "Abigail Scuito, but please call me Abby."

"Timothy McGee. McGee."

"Ziva David. Officer David.

"Anthony Dinozzo. Tony.

"Gibbs."

Dr. Mark seemed like he already wanted the session to be over. He nervously shuffled some papers.

"Today, um, we're doing a dream discussion... You can, uh, tell us about dreams you had recently."

"Delightful."

Tony muttered, and Ziva's lips twitched into a smile, as she scooted slightly closer to him.

"Abby, how about you start?"

"Well, okay."

Abby settled into a more comfortable position, and her face shifted into a slightly more depressed expression.

"Last night I had a really bad nightmare. It was one of the ones where I wake up crying." Abby's eyes were pricked lightly with tears. "In this one... It was Tony and first I saw him kneeling in front of Kate's, Pacci's, Paula's, and Jenn's graves, and in front of the hospital where... Jeanne worked."

Tony's face was stony, and Ziva was looking at him, a faint trace of worry etched into her features.

"And then he lifted his gun to his head..." Abby was choking on her tears now, and one spilled silently down her cheek. "And I watched him... shoot himself."

She buried her head in her hands, curling up in on herself, Ducky gently comforting her as she cried softly. Dr. Mark was looking slightly confused, sad, and scared of the look Tony had. Abby hiccupped a few times and straightened up.

"Thanks Duckman."

She whispered, wiping the streaked makeup off her face.

"Can you think of any reason why you would have this dream?"

"Cuz it's almost happened!"

Abby said rather loudly, shooting a look towards Tony that was begging for forgiveness and was expressing unending sadness at the same time.

"Is this-"

Dr. Mark was silenced by the glare Tony was giving him, that was daring him to ask the question. The rest of the room was either gazing at Dr. Mark with slight interest or at Tony with a mixture of fear and sadness and wonder.

"Okay... now let's do some relaxing."

Dr. Mark said hurriedly, motioning towards some mats. Everyone plopped down on them.

"Now, uh, lay down on your back and breathe deeply."

Suddenly light coughing broke out.

"Tony! breathe normally! You should know by now!"

"Well sorry! I was trying to-"

A snore broke inbetween Abby's and Tony's banter.

"McGee snores!" Tony laughed lightly. Another one joined McGee's. "I.. almost forgot... so does Ziva..."

The one day he was supposed to teach dream discussion and relaxation, he was wound-up, afraid, and most likely wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

Dr. Mark became aware Gibbs was glaring at him roughly 30 minutes later and that all of them were awake. Ziva was considering her knife, occaisionally glancing at him. Suddenly he was afraid and began rambling.

"I think the doc here needs a padded room and a straightjacket."

Tony said smiling. Ziva laughed with him, and even Gibbs was smiling.

"Oh dear."

Ducky said, and he called the Director.


	2. Tuesday

**Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS.

* * *

**Tuesday**

"You have a new therapist."

Vance said. The team stared blankly back at him.

"Now go. NOW."

He said when they hesitated. With one last retreating glare, Gibbs led his team once again to the meeting room. This time when they walked in they were met with a "Hello." coming from the new man sitting behind the desk. He had short auburn hair, and no glasses.

"Goodbye."

Tony muttered as they all took their same seats.

"My name is Dr. Thomas, but call me Tom. I know all your names, so we don't need to go though that. Now, today we'll be painting and drawing. You can do two pictures, one of the most trautmatic and the other of the happiest occurence since your time at NCIS."

He said, gesturig towards the easels in the corner.

"I'll be back in an hour."

A consecutive groan was heard from Tony, Ziva and McGee.

"Is there a problem Tony, Ziva and Tim? Can I call you that?"

"No. You can't."

They said in synch.

"Anthony, Zee and Timothy?" Three glares answered that question.

"DiNozzo, Officer David and McGee?" Three nods. 'Tom' sighed.

"Okay. I'll be back in an hour."

**An hour later...**

Tom wandered back into the room to find a lot of paint. EVERYWHERE. There was black on several portions of the floor, and the walls were covered in something that looked like... orange? He couldn't tell. Tony and Ziva were engaged in a war, painting each others faces with every color imaginable. Abby had found a mirror and painted a black skull on her cheek. McGee had discreetly painted the end of Ziva's ponytail bright purple, blue and green and was almost at the top painting some yellow. All in all the scene was something that couldn't fit even into the category of a mess. Someone had even found masking tape and done a body outline on the carpet, adding a painted gun and some "blood". Ducky was working on touching it up, adding a face.

Tom could only cough as he sat down in his seat suddenly springing up, only to find the chair went with him.

"Thumbtacks, paint and superglue."

Tony whispered to Ziva, who laughed rather loudly.

"These are my best pants!"

Tom yelled, his face turning red. At some point in the next five minutes he managed to get off, leaving a good portion of his khaki pants behind. The rest of the seat of his pants was purple. Abby was hiding a laugh behind her hand, while McGee was clutching his side as he rocked in silent mirth. Tony looked very proud of himself, and Gibbs patted him on the back, chuckling.

"Show me your paintings." Tom growled, finding another chair and dragging it over. "Gibbs. You start."

"Are you sure you want to see them?" Tony asked skeptically. Tom glared at him.

"Suit yourself." Tony said, grabbing a sheet of paper from the easel. It was black and red spatters. Tom just didn't want to know.

"Most traumatic... and happiest." Ziva said in explanation, grabbing the other. There was nothing on it.

"Your turn Ton-Dinozzo."

"This is my most traumatic experience." Tony said, holding up a picture of him facing a glaring Gibbs, "Meeting Gibbs."

"That's actually pretty good Tony." McGee said, smiling. Gibbs, of course, just glared.

"Thanks Probie." Tony flashed him an appreciative smile, holding up his second. "Happiest moment: most of the time when I'm undercover."

The team shared a knowing look.

"Officer David."

Ziva held up a picture of Vance. "Most traumatic: Vance coming." She held up a picture of a paperclip covered in blood. "Happiest: Killing therapists."

The team simply smiled when Tom looked like he was going to be sick. As a matter of fact, he looked a tiny bit green.

"McGee."

Tony leaned over. "Wait... there was a bit of this..." He watered down some yellow paint and painted it one. McGee nodded and tore it off.

"Most traumatic... My first body with Gibbs."

He held up the picture. It was a well done picture of the body that had been found in hydrochloric acid. It looked very bubbly and disgusting, and Tony had added the yellow acid. In a rought span of 6 seconds, Tom was retching into the wastebasket.

"Oh dear."

Ducky repeated for the second time that week, calling the Director yet again.


	3. Wednsday

**Disclaimer:** The cast and writers of NCIS are tied up in my closet.

I'm also a liar, by the way.

And, some of these ideas were taken from the fanfiction Adventures in Therapy by Carlough. It's hilarious and great. :) I had a chronic case of writing block, and used another story for inspiration. If you haven't read it, you really should.

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**Wednsday**

Vance rubbed his face. He had just told Team Gibbs that Dr. Thomas had been admitted to an isolated corner of the psychiatric ward for repeated nightmares resulting in repeated vomitting. The nightmares were of him and other therapists dying as well as bodies soaked in hydrochloric acid.

They had only stopped smiling when he told them there would be yet another therapist.

He expected they would be there now.

When they walked in this time, the room had been rearranged. The carpet was cleaned and turned out to be a much lighter color of gray, and there was now a better couch and chairs. Plus the desk and work chair was new.

So was the therapist.

He looked roughly 25, and had an aura that screamed bouncing off the walls, in an annoying well... retarded way. He had average length strawberry blond hair and wire rim glasses. He was bouncing up and down on his chair listening to Pocketful of Sunshine. Tony had stopped in the door, raising his eyebrows at the sight.

"This guy already belongs in the psych ward."

He muttered, grudgingly sitting down, as the others followed suit.

"Hi! My name is Dr. Ryan Marks, but pleeeeease call me Ryan. I know your names. Today let's discuss _you_! Isn't that _exciting_?"

The team stared at him, not believing this man was a qualified therapist.

"Abby! You go! Why did you open up so fast? Not that it's a bad thing, oh no! It's veeeery good. As a matter of fact, have a lollipop for your goodness! Goodness... is that a word? Oh, back to the question!"

Abby was left holding a rainbow lollipop in one hand and looking at an expecting therapist.

"Um... I opened up because I needed to tell someone..."

"So you told a therapist! Oh, that's _great_! My, I can't imagine why the others left!"

Gibbs looked like he was about to let him find out, while the others looked like they wanted to run from the room at that moment. The therapist was completely oblivious to this.

"W-_ell_. Now I'm sorry, but I have to switch sujects. Let's go back to dreams. But this time you have to _day_dream."

And with that, he closed his eyes and was silent. The rest just were silent from shock. Five minutes later, Ryan opened his eyes.

"Okey-dokey! I'll share first. I dreamed there was a beautiful pink unicorn named Fluffy, and I rode her through the cotton candy clouds..."

He rambled on in this manner for several minutes before ending and trading off to Ziva.

"I daydreamed that there was a bomb and all the unicorns died. And all the lollipops contained high doses of PCP, causing everyone to go crazy and die. But not before the cotton candy clouds turned to acid."

Suddenly Ryan was crying and didn't stop for 30 minutes.

"That's so terrible!"

And Ducky was calling the Director again, for knowledge this man, too, would end up in the psychiatric ward.

"Oh Dear."


	4. Thursday

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS and probably never will.

Sadly.

Anyways, thanks everyone for all the nice reviews. :D I plan on finishing this by the end of the week.

* * *

**Thursday**

Tony lounged back in his chair.

"I wonder what kind of therapist we'll have today."

Ziva laughed slightly. It was almost a game, seeing how many therapists they could scare away. She enjoyed it.

McGee looked up.

"Maybe it will be a qualified Marine therapist."

Tony looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Likely, actually. They need some therapist that doesn't end up in the hospital."

"It's time."

Gibbs said, striding past them. Vance had resorted to emailing them the state of the therapists and telling them they _still_ had therapy. Abby ran up to them just as they were about to head up, her boots clumping on the carpet and pigtails swinging.

"Hi!"

She enveloped each of them in a hug, the fact not unnoticed by Tony and Ziva that she hugged Mcgee for a fraction longer than anyone else.

"We're off the see the therapist, the evil therapist of doom!"

They walked in to find a completely different therapist then any they had had that week.

He was definitely a Marine.

"Wow, McPsychic!"

Tony said, nudging McGee. The therapist, yet to have named himself, looked stonily at them. They all took their normal seats.

"Call me Dr. Spencer."

He addressed them at last. Tony had started a steady beat with his fingers on the table that was now beside the couch. Dr. Spencer glared at him reprovingly before continuing.

"I have heard and read what reports are currently available and have decided to take a more serious approach then those before me."

The team didn't do anything.

"Very well. I will ask you questions, and I expect you to answer them truthfully."

Tony twitched slightly at this, but somehow it managed to go by unnoticed.

"I will start with Anthony. You have led a very traumatic life in the police business, is that correct?"

Tony stiffly nodded, not liking the path this was going down.

"Tell me about some of your losses."

"Well, I lost quite a bunch of Armani jackets in the business... Several terrible run-ins with guns, knives..."

He shook his head sadly.

"This is no time to be joking."

Dr. Spencer said. Tony looked him square in the eye with a glare that made gibbs proud.

"You're right it's not funny. Neither is some complete and utter idiotic therapist trying to get in my head. I don't tell people things for reasons, and they're damn good ones."

The staring match continued for about two minutes. Finally Dr. Spencer broke. Tony gave him a mocking smile.

"Okay. Abby. You've been at NCIS a long time, all in the same lab. Have you personalized it and if so, with what?"

To everyone this seemed like the most bizarre, irrelevant question that could be asked. But they didn't want another drawn-out staring contest, so Abby answered.

"I have art of cool looking dead bodies and close ups of their-"

"You WHAT?"

Dr. Spencer said, fighting to keep his voice in control.

"She has close ups of parts of ead bodies, like their stab wounds. Like my personal favorite - Sad End to a Draino Drinker. It's hanging in my living room since she replaced it."

Abby nodded.

"Yup."

"You people are disgusting"

But Tony and Abby didn't hear him.

"I still need a copy of that one multiple gunshot one. It looked pretty cool too."

"Yeah, I have it somewhere. I'll get it to you."

McGee was trying not to burst out laughing at the look that was forming on Dr. Spencer's face. Ziva was in the same position, trying to not smile at all, which was proving hard. Gibbs simply observed the therapist. Oh, he was positive this would end soon.

Meanwhile, Ducky had joined in the conversation.

"I have the spinal x-ray of the one with the perfectly broken neck."

"Oh, cool! I want to make that one simple black and white. You want a copy, Tony?"

"Sure! Was that the case where the wife had an affair with his best friend, who's wife was having an affair with her own sister's husband (who was the dead guy's cousin) and somehow people found out and he ended up dead?"

"Yup. That was a very messed up group of people."

"Yup."

"You people are disgusting. Art of dead bodies? I can understand why the others left. You are mentally disturbed and I wish your next therapist the best of luck."

With that, Dr. Spencer slammed his files on the desk and left, shutting the door behind him with a bang.

"Well someone's cranky."

Abby remarked. McGee was laughing silently now, rocking slightly. Ziva was grinning widely, even Gobbs had cracked a smile.

"Oh dear."

Ducky said, smiling as he called the director to tell him that the Marine therapist had left too.


End file.
